


Angel

by LydiaStJames



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Come join me on the Czeng Train, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaStJames/pseuds/LydiaStJames
Summary: The entire night was orchestrated around flirting with Noah. Henry wanted an excuse to kiss him, because he was a horrible mixture of desperate and cautious, and he wasn’t sure he could go one more day without something more.





	

Henry was drunk. No -- not drunk, buzzed. It was disingenuous to say he was drunk, when he could still recite that Korean tongue twister without fail. He ran through it multiple times, first in Korean and then in English, as he lay on the ground of Gansey’s apartment.

 

Blue lulled her head in his direction and frowned. “Why are you talking about soy sauce?”

 

Poor, sweet Blue. She clearly could not hold her whiskey.  _ She _ was definitely drunk. He ran his finger down her nose and said, “Shh, sweetie. Just shut your mouth.”

 

“You’re drunk,” she said with a laugh. 

 

_ “You’re _ drunk!”

 

“You’re  _ both _ drunk.” Noah’s head suddenly popped into view. He was leaning over Henry, and he might have been smiling at him. It was hard to tell with Noah. It was that damn cupid’s bow he called his lips. Was he  _ really _ smiling, or were his lips just tricking Henry?

 

Henry felt like Noah’s entire existence was a trick sometimes. A cruel one. No, no, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Noah’s fault that he was born with shockingly blonde hair, or that he was an eternal optimist, or that he was so tiny that Henry had to constantly fight the urge to pick him up and hold him close, like a puppy. Like a Pomeranian puppy. Noah was an adorable Pomeranian puppy.

 

Oh God. Maybe he  _ was _ drunk.

 

“I’m a little drunk, Noah,” Henry admitted to the angel above him. Maybe he should get off the ground. That just seemed so hard, and the ground was so comfortable. “You should come down here as well.”

 

“Why would I lay on the concrete when there’s a perfectly good couch?”

 

Henry huffed a breath. Ugh. This is why Noah pained him. He refused to flirt with Henry, to play along with the game. He was supposed to say,  _ Oh, why sure, Henry, I’d be happy to lay next to you. Did you know you have something in your hair? Here, let me get that for you. Oh, let me also tuck that piece of hair behind your ear. What the hell, let’s just make out.  _

 

Thankfully, even in his state of inebriation, Henry knew he couldn’t say  _ that.  _ So instead, he settled for a pained,  _ “But Noah…” _

 

Blue pushed herself from the ground, wobbling at the sudden change in air, and muttered, “Here, Noah, take my spot. Imma’ see what Gansey is doing.”

 

Then she stumbled over to the kitchen, bumping into lamp and stubbing her foot on the door frame as she went. Noah snickered at her departure, but he still refused to lay down next to Henry. What a jerk. 

 

_ No, not a jerk, _ he told himself.  _ Just not into me. _

 

He really wanted Noah to like him. Sometimes, if Henry paid really close attention, he thought Noah returned his affections. Because sometimes Noah would bump his shoulder into Henry’s when a joke wasn’t really that funny. Or sometimes his eyes would linger on Henry for a beat too long. Or he made sure to sit next to Henry at Nino’s, or in the car, or on the couch. 

 

And then other times, like tonight, he was convinced the feelings weren’t mutual. After all, the entire night was orchestrated around flirting with Noah. Henry wanted an excuse to kiss him, because he was a horrible mixture of desperate and cautious, and he wasn’t sure he could go one more day without  _ something _ more. 

 

If he could just be close to Noah for one night, just  _ one _ night where he could hold his hand or kiss his cheek, he could be satisfied. Henry wasn’t one to usually linger on feelings, and this insistent crush on Noah was becoming too much. So he put a plan together: a Christmas party, where there would be mistletoe, that could potentially lead to a kiss. It didn’t even have to be real affection. Henry could be fine with manufactured touches.

 

But it didn’t work out that way. Fucking  _ Lynch. _ If Henry were less drunk, he’d tell himself that this wasn’t Ronan’s fault. That Ronan didn’t ruin  _ anything. _ But the less rational, more inebriated side of him was content to blame Ronan for the night’s failure.

 

All because Ronan had refused to kiss Adam under the mistletoe. Because it set a precedence! They were first to go under the ‘Toe, and if they didn’t follow the  _ rules _ , then no one else in the room (okay, Noah) wouldn’t have to follow it either. And low and behold,  _ no one did. _

 

“You’re deep in thought.”

 

Oh, that’s right. What was Henry  _ doing? _ The object of his affection was still leaning over him, with that dumb maybe-but-maybe-not smile on his face. 

 

“I’m always thinking,” Henry agreed. 

 

“What about?” Noah asked.

 

“Ronan.”

 

Noah quirked his eyebrow up. “I didn’t think he was your type.”

 

“Everyone is my type.” 

 

Noah nodded appreciatively, but there was a look in his eyes that seemed almost -- no.  _ Stop that, _ Henry told himself. It didn’t do him any favors to look for signs that Noah liked him. Maybe Noah  _ did _ look a bit sad, for just a moment, but Henry’s interpretation of “sad eyes” could just as easily be that a piece of dust flew into Noah’s eye. 

 

God. Why did he think drinking was a good idea?

 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up on Ronan,” Noah warned. 

 

“Oh, I was just kidding.” Henry threw his arm across his eyes. He didn’t trust his eyes to stay shut, not when Noah was so close, but he really couldn’t be this close to Noah and his lips any longer. “Ronan is not -- he is not on my radar.”

 

“Who  _ is _ on your radar?”

 

Henry lifted his arm away and stared at Noah. By now, Noah had wrapped his arms around his crouched knees and had rocked back onto his heels. Henry allowed himself to be momentarily distracted by this - just one, precious moment to admire Noah’s limbs and his balance - before he thought back to the question.

 

“An angel,” Henry whispered. “An angel is on my radar.”

 

Noah hid a smile - and thankfully, this time his lips split open so Henry knew  _ for sure _ that it was a smile - with the palm of his hand. “An angel, huh? I didn’t realize there were angels walking around Henrietta.”

 

“Noah, you’re a ghost!” Gansey said suddenly. Henry could see his boat shoes cross the room, moving to the bathroom. “If there are ghosts, there are definitely angels!” 

 

“Touche,” Noah said. He looked upset.

 

“You’re not a ghost,” Henry said. “You’re more than that.”

 

Noah sighed, but it wasn’t with irritation. It was something else - something that Henry couldn’t quite place. 

 

“Help me up?” Henry asked.

 

Noah was quick to agree. He stood up, walked to Henry’s legs, and held out his hand. Henry took it willingly, and he tried to focus on Noah’s skin on his. It wasn’t lips, and this was hardly holding hands, but Henry could still appreciate the moment. Because even though Noah’s hands were cold, they were also soft. And though Noah was so small, he pulled Henry up with an easy strength. Noah was always this - something disastrous mixed with something just as wonderful, and Henry liked that. He felt at home there. 

 

He hoped Noah felt the same way toward him. That Noah could look past Henry’s insecurities, to see something better.

 

Jesus. He needed some water, or some coffee - something to get him off this obsessive circle of thoughts. He was glad he kept them bottled up, because he’d be so embarrassed if anyone overheard his failed attempts at poetry. He tried to wax poetic, but it was no use. Kim So-Wol he was not. 

 

“Come on,” Noah said, tugging him toward the bedroom. At least he was still holding his hand. “It’s time for bed.”

 

Henry sighed. “Yes, Angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to read the Pynch side of this, it's [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8741818) for your viewing pleasure.
> 
> Just a small little Czeng drabble. Could be easily convinced into writing more.


End file.
